


Take It Outside

by Straight_Outta_Hobbiton



Series: Bones the Southern Boy [1]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Badass!Bones, Bones has a thick accent when he's drunk, Gen, Good Old Boy!Bones, Spock is confused by Human behavior, jim is drunk, very drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 07:13:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7565023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Straight_Outta_Hobbiton/pseuds/Straight_Outta_Hobbiton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bones shows his true colors as a good old boy. Spock is surprised. Jim is not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take It Outside

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song by Brantley Gilbert.

The captain has fallen asleep at the bar, open-mouthed and snoring, and Dr. McCoy is not far behind him. Leaning heavily on his elbows, he sips his whisky lazily, enjoying the quiet that comes with the captain’s current unbecoming state.

For once, Spock is pleased that Jim decided against a uniformed shore leave.

The doctor barely looks up when Spock takes the seat beside him.

"Glass’a chocolate milk for ya, then?" His accent appears to have gotten thicker in his state of intoxication. Fascinating.

"No, thank you." Spock glances at Jim. "Perhaps we should take the Ca— Jim back to the ship.

McCoy snorts, plucking absently at the edge of his black t-shirt.

"He’ll be fine," he says. "Coupla minutes and he’ll wake up again— I’ve never had ta carry him outta a bar since I’ve known him, and that’s goin’ on six years."

"Perhaps. But it is unseemly to have our superior officer asleep on his barstool."

"’S unseemly for us all, Spock." The doctor sips his drink. "But damned if I can’t have a good, relaxin’ drink at a bar on solid ground."

"Are you implying the Enterprise is an unsound structure?"

"I’m implyin’ that it moves. Through space." He shudders. "That’s damn unnatural, if you ask me. Prefer to stay somewhere I can curl my toes in the dirt."

An odd thing to say, but then, the doctor often says strange things. Perhaps he means it metaphorically.

McCoy raps his knuckles against the synthetic wood of the bar.

"Can I get something chocolate for my friend here?" he calls. The bartender nods and turns away,

"There we go— a few good drinks and ya might even crack a smile." McCoy cracks one of his own, all white teeth and drunken charm.

"I don’t think—"

"The point is, Spock, not to think."

Spock’s drink comes, along with another finger of whisky for the doctor, who smiles at the bartender gratefully.

McCoy slides the drink over to Spock and downs half of his own. Spock peers at his own glass thoughtfully for a moment, then takes a sip.

It isn’t… unpleasant. Too sweet for his taste, but then, most Terran candies are.

They sit in companionable silence. The captain snores on at the doctor’s elbow.

"Well, hell, if it ain’t Lenny McCoy!"

The doctor’s calm curdles. His face contorts into something Spock identifies as distaste as he turns to face whoever had recognized him.

"Gil Norman," he says. "I heard you went inta Starfleet, but I couldn’t believe it."

The man— a young man, but a man, nonetheless— is dressed in red and has a smile that would suit the captain if it weren’t so cruel.

"Well, if you managed it okay, I figured it’d be a cakewalk." Gil grins. "So, how ya been, Lenny?"

McCoy leans back against the bar, bare elbow brushing against Spock’s hand. He gets a glimpse of a bully, a man slapping a woman.

He moves his hand and keeps his eyes on Gil.

"Gil, I remember when your Momma push your sorry ass out into the world," McCoy says. "You ain’t anywhere near old enough to use my Christian name."

Anger sparks in Gil’s eyes, but his smile stays.

"You’re damn right about that, Mr. McCoy—"

" _Doctor_ McCoy."

"Doctor? Starfleet’s lettin’ an old drunk like you practice medicine?"

Something sparks in the doctor’s eyes.

"Starfleet lets an old drunk like me practice medicine— and on their flagship, too." McCoy’s lips quirk. "How about yourself? I see you’re a deadshirt."

"Not dead yet." Gil preens. "I’m up for promotion— they think I’ll make head of security before I’m twenty-five."

McCoy whistles.

"Always good to hear a small town boy succeedin’ out in the wide worlds," he drawls. "Bet your daddy’s proud."

Gil’s jaw clenches. McCoy pays it no mind.

"And how is your daddy, anyway? Still in Georgia State?"

The redshirt’s smile fades. He ignores the question, jerking his chin in Spock’s direction.

"Who’s your friend here, Mr. McCoy?"

Spock stiffens. McCoy laughs.

"This here’s Commander Spock," he says. "Commander, this is Gilbert Norman. He’s the son of an old classmate of mine from high school."

"Commander Spock?" Gil turns his attention fully to the Vulcan. "Seriously? He don’t look like a halfbreed."

Spock blinks.

"Genetics are a fascinating subject," he says. "But if I am not mistaken, your tone may be taken as insulting by some."

"Insulting? Hell, Commander, I don’t mean to be." Gil straightens. "I’m just surprised Mr. McCoy here’s hangin’ out with an alien."

"That’s the third time you’ve called me Mr.," the doctor notes. "Say it again and I’ll grind your hillbilly ass into the dirt."

"Now, now, no need ta get testy, Mr. McCoy. I forgot ya were so touchy after Jocelyn took ya ta court. I’ll leave ya ta hang out with your freak Commander."

"I do believe that was an insult," Spock remarks, glancing at McCoy. "Which falls under insubordination, considering both I and Dr. McCoy are both considered your superior officers."

"Your damn right, Spock, it is insubordination." McCoy sips his drink.

Gil laughs.

"So what, then, you’re gonna write me up? Careful, Mr. McCoy, your age is showing."

"How so?"

"Way back when you knew how to play with the boys."

"Way back when? When I was still stupid enough to be called a boy, I used to knock your daddy’s ass into the gravel and spend the night with your Momma, if I recall," the doctor says thoughtfully. "I may have grown up a bit, but if ya can point me towards your girl I’m sure we can relive the good ole days."

Gil’s cheeks go red. His eyes flash.

"You’re pretty damn sure of yourself, old man," he says. "How about we take this outside so I can knock some sense inta that liquor-soaked head’a yours?"

Dr. McCoy’s grin is positively devilish. He finishes his drink in one swallow and stands.

Spock’s hand snakes around his wrist.

"Doctor, this is unwise."

The doctor smiles. His skin pulses with ruthless pleasure, anger, and the buzz of too much whisky. Spock sees a man who can only be Gil’s father, groaning under the pressure of McCoy’s boot.

"Spock, if I were Jim, I’d tell ya what I’m about ta do is some kinda Terran ritual, and to a point, it is." The doctor pulls his arm away and slaps him on the back. "But mostly, I just need this moron why he’s the first Norman to finish high school—" he pauses, turning to Gil in mock inquisitiveness. "Or was it a GED?"

Gil growls.

"Outside. Unless your Vulcan wants to keep asking questions."

McCoy’s eyes sparkle with something primal as he follows Gil out, gait altered by a cross between swagger and alcohol.

Jim stirs, cracking one bloodshot blue eye open.

"He’ll be fine," he slurs, lips smacking as he burrows his face into his arms. "There’s never been a bar fight I haven’t seen Bones win."

Spock doesn’t know what to make of that.

"I will go make certain Dr. McCoy is in need of assistance," he says, getting to his feet.

"Enjoy the show," Jim mumbles. "Hey, Spock?"

"Yes, Jim?"

"You gonna finish that mudslide?"

Spock pushes the drink— the mudslide— towards the captain and makes his way to the front of the bar.

A crowd has already gathered, creating a wide circle around the doctor and Gil. His eyes widen as the redshirt takes a swing— a swing that McCoy avoids and returns, aiming for his false ribs.

McCoy is a doctor, first and foremost, and he knows where to hit, and when his fist makes impact, Spock hears it.

The pain only enrages Gil further, and he takes another swing. The blow glances off the doctor’s shoulder, but he ignores it, moving closer to let loose a flurry of heavy punches to his opponent’s middle.

Gil grunts, hands coming up to push McCoy away. He leaves an opening, one that the doctor exploits with an uppercut to the jaw.

Gil goes down. The crowd cheers. McCoy grins.

"That boy’s just like his daddy," he says, turning to Spock. "All bark and no bite— hey, has Jim woke up yet?"

"I am not certain he has retained consciousness."

"Did you get him a drink?"

"I gave him mine."

"He’s awake." McCoy glances at his knuckles. "Aw, hell. That’s gonna hurt tomorrow."

"Perhaps if you had listened to me, you would not have to worry about soreness."

The doctor scoffs.

"Where’s the fun in that? Jim, there ya are."

Spock is surprised the captain can stand. He smiles dopily at the pair, leaning heavily against the doorframe.

"Nice job, Bones," he says. "Skipped all the big pressure points again?"

"It wouldn’ta been fair if I didn’t."

"Cool. Let’s head back to the ship— I’m beat."

Scotty beams them up, and they all end up in Jim’s quarters.

"I… I fail to understand what happened," he says as he watches Jim clumsily set up the chessboard. "Why did you fight him?"

"Because, Spock, he was being disrespectful— ta me and ta you." McCoy is spread out across Jim’s bed, arms splayed. "Boy had ta learn."

"It had nothing to do with your prior acquaintance?"

"I never said it didn’t. The Normans are a mean lot— his daddy Bill’s serving time for drinkin’ and drivin’— he killed a kid and ran." McCoy shakes his head. "No, Gil’s a bad apple. I’ve treated a few of the girls he used to screw around with. Used ta beat the shit outta them."

"Why?"

McCoy shrugs.

"Because he’s a mean drunk. I mean, ya saw the way he was actin’. Makin’ fun’a you, and ya weren’t even… weren’t even involved."

"The booze is starting to hit him," Jim says, grinning. "He’ll be out like a light in— oh, he’s out, I think."

"I still do not understand the purpose of that fight. A write up would have been sufficient."

Jim sighs.

"It’s a pride thing," he says. "You see it a lot in Human culture. Two guys get in a fight over something stupid and flex their muscles at each other. It’s a way to spend a Friday night. Get drunk, get a girl, get into a fight, tell a few stories… all part of Americana."

Spock just stares.

"Bones is… a good old boy," Jim tries to explain. "It’s a Human thing. I can’t explain it. It’s something people just… understand."

Well, Spock doesn’t, but then, he doesn’t understand a lot when it comes to Humans. They’re simply… illogical, by nature.

The captain takes white this time, a clear indication of his level of inebriation, and Spock beats him in twelve moves, another indication.

"Someday I’ll take y’all ta visit my sister back home," comes the doctor’s voice from the bed. "You’ll get it then, Spock."

Spock doesn’t think he will, but he nods anyway.

"It would be a fascinating experience, Doctor," he offers.

"To see ya in Serrenville? Fascinatin’ doesn’t cover it." Bones rolls over. "Night, guys."

"Night, Bones."

"Good night, Doctor."

Spock turns some of his attention to the chest board, but mostly, he thinks of McCoy’s offer. The doctor rarely speaks of his hometown— in fact, Spock doesn’t recall ever having heard the name. Jim has said it has something to do with his divorce, something about emotional damage, so the fact that the doctor promised to take them home with him…

He’s overthinking it. McCoy will forget about it by morning, he’s certain.

Probably.

**Author's Note:**

> In my head, Bones grew up in a tiny town riding quads and drinking in the woods. No one can convince me otherwise.


End file.
